24 hours
by suomynonAsIsihT
Summary: In which Rachel finds out about Quinn's one night stand. AU past "I Do"
1. 3:30-4:30 pm - Hour 1 - Phone Call

AN: Why hasn't this been done yet? This plot bunny has been eating me alive. Also, I don't watch a lot of Glee, so there is going to be discrepancies in setting and in characterization. Forgive me?

* * *

"You're pregnant?!" Kurt screeched, his eyes wide.

The glass he was holding dropped and shattered, pieces falling at Rachel's feet. She regarded him with watery eyes, her hand mid-air in a failed attempt to quiet him. There was no need to worry about Brody overhearing; he wouldn't get back until later this evening. But, there was a certain Latina that she was terrified would find out.

She and Santana had become close since high school. In fact, her former nemesis had travelled to New York weeks earlier in order to stop her from pulling a topless stunt; a much needed intervention and an act she would have regretted years later. After the bonding-experience, she would normally have had no qualms talking to her friend about this or anything else for that matter. She trusted the ex-cheerleader more than she probably should, given their history. But, it wasn't _this_ friend that she didn't want to tell.

_Holy crap, are you pregnant?!_

Rachel's head twitched in a subconscious effort to redirect her thoughts. Of course, the fact that Santana was sleeping mere feet away meant that any hope that she didn't hear what had just transpired was incredibly naïve; Kurt had practically screamed the news to all of New York. Kurt's eyes looked apologetic as she slowly turned around to face her friend lazily appraising her from the couch.

"Holy hell, Berry," Santana commented dryly. "I knew you wanted to be like Quinn, but I never thought you'd take it to this extent."

Rachel let out a small sob before running into her room and slamming the door behind her.

"Santana!" Kurt exclaimed, angrily. Said person cut him off before he could continue with berating her.

"I know, shut it Lady Hummel." Santana ran a hand through her bed-swept hair. "Shit, old habits die hard and all that jazz."

"I thought we had moved past the asinine nick-names."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Did you not hear _anything_ I said after that? Or were you too wrapped up in your wounded ego?"

Kurt clenched his jaw and glared at the fiery Latina who had finally managed to pull herself up from the couch.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing her bleary eyes as she made her way to her bag sitting on the counter. When she didn't get a reply, she turned to look pointedly at Kurt.

"Three thirty," he muttered before turning to look for a broom to clean up the broken shards.

_Four hours_, Santana mused. This was way too much drama to be dealing with on her first day rooming with the twins. "Finally found it!" Santana smirked, pulling out her phone.

"Found wha…what are you doing!?" Kurt yelped, dropping the broom and diving towards his new roommate. Santana regarded him with mild amusement.

"Calling someone. _Obviously_." She started scrolling through her contact list.

"I know that," Kurt hissed. "Calling _who_?"

Before she could reply, the two's heads snapped toward the sound of a door slamming open.

"_Don't._"

Rachel was still in jeans and a baggy shirt (probably Brody's), which she had uncharacteristically dawned in an attempt to help Santana move in earlier this morning. Her hair was now pulled back in a ponytail, however, and her eyes were red-rimmed with any trace of makeup gone.

"Please, just don't call." _Her, _she mentally added.

Santana's eyes narrowed, gears in her head clicking.

"Is there something I'm missing?" She looked from Kurt to Rachel, trying to derive as much information from their body language as possible. "Is there some reason you don't want me calling Quinn?"

Kurt visibly relaxed. "I thought you were calling Finn."

The Latina's head snapped in his direction. "Are you _off your rocker? _Why the hell would I call Finnocence?" Realization dawned on her face and she rounded to Rachel. "Please tell me the kid's not his."

Rachel shook her head mutely, and Santana looked visibly relieved before turning back to her phone.

"Quinn should be done with her classes by now, so she could probably make an emergency appearance," Santana remarked. "And believe me, this_ is an emergenc…_" She trailed off as a small hand blocked the screen of her phone.

"Okay, what the hell Berry. Explain," Santana demanded; eyes boring into Rachel's.

Rachel bit her lip. "Don't call Quinn."

"No shit," her roommate commented, rolling her eyes. "I'm asking _why_. If anything, I'm the one who should have a problem calling Emily Stark after V-day." Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?"

"Quinn." Santana deadpanned. "It's a long stor-."

"No, I got that." Rachel abruptly cut her off. Santana could merely raise an incredulous eyebrow before the now mildly-hyperventilating diva barreled on. "I'm asking why you would have a problem calling her."

The tables had turned, and this time Santana was the one stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. "We just haven't talked much since then." _Or at all. _She had said it offhandedly, hoping to play it off. Unfortunately, Rachel wasn't biting.

She grabbed her arm, and looked up at the taller girl with an unreadable expression. "Beating around the bush isn't like you Santana."

Kurt, throughout all of this, was trying to decipher what was _actually_ going on: what Santana was not saying and why Rachel was so desperate to _not_ inform Quinn of her pregnancy when she was, quite literally, the best person to go to for advice. Technically, Rachel was still a teenager…and he was getting sidetracked.

He decided to focus on Santana at first. She was blatant, blunt and downright _rude_ ninety percent of the time. So what could have happened on the fourteenth that led Santana acting this out of character? Santana had a soft spot for her friends and, despite what she said, would do anything for them. Although Quinn and Santana were usually at each other's throats, they seemed downright _friendly_ at the party. Why wasn't she talking? Maybe the reason the Latina wasn't talking was because it wasn't her secret she didn't want to tell. But then why would she suddenly have a problem calling Quinn if she was protecting her?

_Secret…Quinn…Valentine's Day…Falling out…Santana…_

The more he mused over the evidence, the quicker pieces started falling into place, and Kurt's jaw practically disjointed as comprehension hit him.

Santana's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I asked you a question first, _Berry_," she snapped, pulling away from Rachel's grip.

"Oh my god, did you sleep with Quinn?!" Kurt shrieked.

"_WHAT?!_"

Both brunettes rounded on him with such vehemence that he unconsciously took multiple steps back.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Lady Lips," Santana all but snarled. "Pray tell, how the _fuck_ did you get to that conclusion."

Kurt's eyes were round and unbelieving. "You did, you did, didn't you?" The words fell from his mouth quietly, but with such weight that it left them all momentarily staggered.

"Don't be ridiculous Kurt." Rachel finally recovered, straightening up. "Quinn Fabray is _straight._ Might I remind you, she did have a child. And even if Quinn did want to _experiment_," Rachel cast a hapless glance towards the other girl. "There is no way Quinn would have slept with Santana of all girls let alone people."

Santana narrowed her eyes dangerously and looked uncharacteristically affronted.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Rachel shook her head. "Nothing, I just meant…nothing."

"Well, news flash Berry, she _would_ sleep with me if she wanted to experiment; because she did," Santana ground out, pissed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a certain blonde I need to call." And before the shell-shocked Rachel could stop her, Santana had already pressed the call button.

Kurt watched on, silently, in mild horror.

_Ring. _

"Santana!" Rachel yelped, diving for the phone. Santana managed to hold it above the diva's head.

_Ring. _

"Damn it, please Santana!" This caused the Latina pause. Rachel never swore.

_Rin-._

"Hello?"

Rachel's eyes were pleading with her, and Santana was starting to actually feel bad. Here she was, supposed to be unfeeling.

_Please, Santana,_ Rachel mouthed.

Shit. The watery eyes did it.

"San?"

Santana slammed the end call button, hanging up on Quinn. _The first time she called her since Valentines merely to hang up on her. The ex-HBIC was going to be pissed. _


	2. 5:30-6:30 pm - Hour 3 - Apologies

EDIT: Fixed a few grievous typos. Apologies.

AN: Thank you for the support!

* * *

Rachel Berry was lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She felt like crying again; she had skipped class to deal with this _mess,_ and Kurt had cancelled his morning plans just to help her. But nothing was fixed; it was even worse with this whole…_thing_…with Quinn.

After the Latina had dropped the call on Quinn, the blonde had immediately proceeded to call her back. The three of them had gathered around the buzzing phone before Santana had snapped and thrown the iPhone at Rachel; the smaller girl catching cell with a loud squeak.

"Not picking up can be on _your_ conscience, midget," Santana had sniped before striding off; presumably to finish unpacking and moving in to her new room. Before Rachel could call in a word edgewise, a distinct _slam_ could be heard, effectively leaving the now quiet phone Rachel's problem.

Recovering first, Kurt had taken one look at Rachel's ashen face and demanded she go get some sleep; noting, quite accurately, that she had probably not slept the night before. He offered to take Santana's cell from her, but she had shaken her head tightly before proceeding to her room and gently shutting the door.

It was now five thirty five; a little over two hours, four missed calls, a handful of unread texts and not even a minute of sleep since the original hang up with Quinn. Technically, two of those calls were to Santana's phone…so if Rachel was kidding herself, really she only had two missed calls on her own phone; her own conscience.

Her conscience…

_And even if Quinn did want to _experiment…_There is no way Quinn would have slept with Santana of all girls let alone people._

Rachel groaned and put in face in her hands. Why did she say that? She didn't mean that; she didn't mean that at all.

_Nothing, I just meant…_

So what did she mean exactly? The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn't say them without understanding what they were.

She didn't hate Santana. There was no doubt in her mind that the ex-cheerleader was a beautiful specimen of a girl who many, girls or guys, would kill to have a chance with.

So…why would she say something so absolutely horrible? That was completely unlike her.

_Quinn is straight._

She jerked her head back into the bedding and her eyes snapped open, immediately glancing at her own phone. It had become briefly illuminated; a new text, presumably from Quinn again. Five forty five. Brody would be home soon, and then her chance to apologize would be out the window. And that was the one thing she was absolutely sure of; despite not knowing the reason those words had spilled from her mouth, she undoubtedly had to apologize to their receiver.

* * *

A quiet rapping at the door redirected Santana's attention away from the box she was unpacking.

"I already told you, Lady Hummel. I don't want anything from that atrocity you call a restaurant!" she yelled back, draping a shirt on a hanger and placing it into her closet.

Santana heard the door slowly creak open and took a small calming breath before turning around.

"Hummel…"

She stopped.

"It's not Kurt," Rachel said, smiling weakly. "Can I come in?"

Santana seemed to momentarily appraise her and for one nerve-wracking moment, Rachel thought that she was about to answer in the negative. But then the Latina gave a jerky nod to the opposite side of the bed.

"You can start putting away the stuff in that box."

Rachel gave her a small smile, and the two quietly put away incidentals for a while before Rachel broke the silence.

"Santana, I'm –"

Before she could finish, the ex-cheerleader cut her off. "Don't want to hear it, Berry."

"But-"

The Latina's head snapped up so that she was looking at Rachel dead in the eyes.

"No buts. I'd be three times dead to Sunday if I let shit like that get to me."

Rachel warily regarded Santana before replying. "Nevertheless, I still feel that I should apologize," she said, frowning when the other girl scoffed at her. "I'm sorry."

"For being such a pain in the ass?" Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I figured."

"What, no." Rachel was taken aback. "It's for…"

Santana cut her off again. "No, yeah. I got it. I was being sarcastic oh tiny one."

Unsure of how to reply to that, Rachel resumed unpacking, noting with relief that the apology seemed well received.

* * *

They were still putting away clothes when Santana chose to speak up.

"So why didn't you want to call Quinn?" Santana really didn't do heart-to-heart conversations, but the curiosity was killing her. She regarded the now stiffening girl with a generous amount of curiosity.

"Face it Berry," she commented, offhandedly. "You owe me an explanation after making me hang up on Q. Who is going to be _pissed_ might I add."

Rachel was now looking anywhere but Santana; an act not going unnoticed by the other girl.

"I don't know," Rachel murmured quietly. "I just don't want her to find out that I'm…"

"Preggers?" Santana supplied helpfully.

The smaller brunette let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes. That."

Santana shook her head in disbelief. "Well, no shit Sherlock."

The comment caught Rachel off-guard, and she finally met Santana's eyes, mouth agape.

"_What?_"

Santana crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. "Do you always state the obvious? I mean, from the moment you burst out of your room, _desperate_ to stop me…"

"I was not desperate!" Rachel interjected, indignant.

"Oh _puh-lease,_" Santana scoffed, shaking her head. "You came out of that room faster than Kurt –"

"OKAY," Rachel loudly interrupted. "I get the picture."

Santana was smirking widely. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Let's keep it that way," Rachel muttered, throwing a wife-beater over her shoulder and hitting the other girl square in the face. Upon the sudden silence, Rachel turned around to see Santana frozen, the shirt fallen at her feet.

She did not just…

"Oh my god, Santana I'm so sorry." Rachel had one hand over her mouth, and the other extended mid-way in a gesture of apology.

The Latina, meanwhile, was beside herself with disbelief. "Did you just _assault_ me with my own tank top?" she said, incredulously.

Rachel was now backing up slowly towards the door. "Santana..."

_Ding._

The two stopped abruptly.

"Oh my god, Brody's back," Rachel freaked, spinning around to stare at the door. "I can't…I can't deal with him now."

The tiny girl was starting to hyperventilate.

"Calm down hobbit." The nickname was said without any malice. "Brody lives here remember? He wouldn't ring the doorbell, he has a key. It's probably just your neighbor again; we can deal with boy-toy later."

Rachel ran a shaky hand threw her hair. "He forgot it." She looked up at Santana, desperate. "The key. He forgot it on the dining table."

"You've got to be kidding me," Santana deadpanned.

"Please Santana…"

Upon realizing what the other girl was asking her to do, Santana started to shake her head.

"Oh, no."

Rachel didn't say anything after that, just sagged a little when she realized the absurdity of what she was asking her friend, ex-enemy, and _day old_ roommate to do.

"Oh _for the love of…_" Santana pushed past the pregnant girl, muttering a slew of Spanish swear words under her breath. She threw open her door, leaving a stunned Rachel in her wake.

_Ding._

The Latina strode towards the entrance of the apartment with a grateful but confused Rachel trailing behind her.

"I'm coming god-damn-it. Hold you bloody…" She threw open the door.

Standing outside was none other than Quinn_ freakin _Fabray, lips drawn in a tight white line and her right hand holding an open phone in a position indicating she was less than pleased.

The blonde snapped the cell shut as she regarded Santana coolly.

"When neither you _nor_ Rachel picked up," Quinn said, throwing an icy-glare at her friend. "I assumed that your apartment was on fire and you left your cells behind in an effort to save your lives."

Santana was not normally intimidated by Quinn, but she had fallen back into full blown HBIC mode. This wasn't fear…this was more like conditioned self-respect.

"So, like any normal, _concerned_, friend would do, I grabbed my metro pass and took the next train here. Despite having _two papers _and a midterm due Monday."

They really shouldn't have hung up on her. Cursing herself inwardly for listening to Rachel, Santana stepped back to let the irritated girl inside.

"Everything seems to be in one piece, so my worries were _apparently _unfounded." She surveyed the room, eyes finally falling on Rachel. One look at the girl's face, and the anger on Quinn's face melted off to a softer expression.

Santana caught the unexpected change of expression and suddenly found herself lost for words. What just happened?

"What's wrong Rach?" the blonde asked, stepping closer to the girl.

Rachel burst into tears and Quinn quickly wrapped the girl in her arms, holding her soundly as sobs wrecked the smaller body.

_I've always wondered what it would be like to be with a woman._

Santana's eyes widened.

No.


	3. 6:30-7:30 pm - Hour 4 - Explanations

EDIT: Gawd, the typos...

A huge thank you to all of the support! I was stunned when I saw the sudden surge of the encouragement.

Addressing the quinntanna thing; there will be at least a little bit of it; can't just ignore the fact that they've slept together, can I? That's bound to have some emotional repercussions (not necessarily in a bad way). Not so sure about the fapezberry triangle…I just don't see it going there with Rachel and Santana. But who knows?

* * *

It took a few minutes for Rachel's sobs to die down, her face buried in the crook of Quinn's neck. As much as she had advocated against calling Quinn, she had missed her greatly. They hadn't really had a chance to talk during Mr. Shue's failed wedding. _Valentine's… _Rachel's jaw clenched.

"I hope you've calmed down, because if you keep crying, I'm going to need a change of clothes."

Rachel's eyes snapped open and she abruptly tilted her head to look at Quinn. The taller girl was smiling slightly, showing the brunette that the statement wasn't meant to be offensive.

"Not that I'd mind," Quinn said wryly. "But I left in such a hurry that I didn't even grab my laptop, let alone an extra outfit."

Rachel blankly looked from the blonde's face and back to the spot she was previously occupying. Sure enough, there was a fairly large stain on Quinn's blue sundress. She snapped her head up to apologize and then faltered, the blonde's close proximity suddenly hitting her; their faces were merely inches apart.

Quinn still had her arms around the small of Rachel's back, the shorter girl's hands clutching the front of the dress's torso. Cocking her head to one side, Quinn studied Rachel in concern.

"What's wrong?"

_The baby…she's going to feel the baby; she's going to know it's there…she's going to…_

Rachel's eyes widened almost imperceptibly before she abruptly shoved Quinn away. The action was so harsh, so unexpected, that Quinn didn't have time to school a mask of indifference over the hurt that flashed across her face.

The smaller girl instantly regretted the action. Her eyes welled up, and she placed a hand over her mouth to quell the sob that was threatening to spill out.

"Quinn…I…I'm _so sorry_."

"What the _fuck_, Berry." Santana snapped, no longer keen on the idea of silently studying the two's interactions.

Rachel opened her mouth to say something before changing her mind. She shook her head, turning around and disappearing into her room.

The Latina decided against chewing out the rapidly retreating girl out, choosing to wait until Rachel was out of sight before rounding on Quinn.

"You've got a shit-ton of explaining to do," Santana demanded, eyes boring into the other girl.

Quinn frowned, blinking rapidly as her expression quickly morphed into that of irritation. "I…" Quinn's voice uncharacteristically cracked. She cleared her throat. "I think you're mistaken, Lopez. You're the one that hung up on _me_ and then proceeded to ignore my subsequent phone calls."

Santana scoffed. "That was _obviously_ not my fault and _not _what I was referring…"

"Well how was I supposed to know that? It was the first time you'd called since Valentine's." Quinn's jaw tightened as she regarded Santana with a hint of measured disappointment, steadily manipulating the conversation into less dangerous waters.

As expected, Santana took the bait, her eyes widening in incredulity. "Are you _pissed_ because I didn't call you sooner?"

"You should have called, period! The hang up doesn't count!" Quinn exploded, glowering at the other girl. So perhaps the anger wasn't _all_ feigned. "You just ignored me!"

Santana jerked her head back, momentarily stunned.

"Phones work two ways, Fabray," she testily replied. "Maybe _I_ was waiting for _you_ to call."

"_I'm_ not the one with that kind of experience," Quinn hissed, casting a surreptitious glance towards Rachel's room. "And it didn't have to be a call, a text would have sufficed."

"I'm sorry," Santana spit out sarcastically. "Let's back track here. Were you referring to _Sapphic_ experience?" The Latina asked the question obnoxiously loud, forcing the blonde to quickly clamp a hand over the girl's mouth.

"Don't, Santana," she warned icily, glaring daggers at her.

Santana rolled her eyes and pulled away, deciding that this was probably not the best time to tell Quinn that she might have already broken the news to Rachel. "You didn't seem to have a problem with it when we talked."

"You mean, when I was taking a drink of water? Not sure that counts as much of a talk," Quinn scoffed. "And, I never _said _I had a problem with it." When she received no reply, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "We're friends, Santana. When you didn't call, I was worried you had boxed me in with your one time flings."

Santana smirked. "Well, technically, it was more than a one time fling." Quinn let out a frustrated groan.

"You know what I…" The last word died on Quinn's lips as she suddenly registered the presence of one Rachel Berry.

_How the hell did she miss her?_

"Rachel," Quinn mumbled weakly. The girl was watching Quinn with an inscrutable expression. _How much had she heard?_

The apartment door burst open, instantly providing an out to the awkward situation. All three girls turned to see Kurt precariously balancing two large bags of groceries in one arm while having his other hand on the door's handle.

"Oh my _god_, you should have seen the line to that vegan place," Kurt declared as he fumbled to remove the key from the lock. "I finally got sick of waiting and had the brilliant idea that we could just _cook_ our problems away. But look at the time now. God, it's almost seven!" Finally succeeding in freeing the key, he looked up to see three girls watching him. Rachel was standing in her doorway and holding some of Brody's old clothes whereas Santana and Quinn were standing a few feet away from each other in the middle of the den; all three girls were watching him silently as Kurt continued to gape, unsure of what he had just interrupted.

"Quinn," he squeaked, glancing from said girl to Rachel. "What…" Recovering, Kurt quickly redirected his question. "What a pleasure to see you!"

"It sure doesn't feel like it," she muttered, walking up to Kurt and grabbing a bag before heading to the kitchen.

* * *

_When you didn't call, I was worried you had boxed me in with your one time flings._

_Well, technically, it was more than a one-time fling._

Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion. _Were they dating now? But…_

"RACHEL."

Said girl's eyes snapped to that of a very pissed off looking Latina.

"I'm sorry, I think I need to lie down," Rachel mumbled before retreating back into her room.

Santana's eyes flared. "Oh no you don't," she muttered, following the girl in. "You do _not_ just get to ignore me." If Rachel had been thinking lucidly, she would have probably realized that Santana following her in and closing the door behind her was _not a good omen_.

But Rachel Berry was not in the most grounded state. She was…confused, and confused about what she was confused about; it was making her head throb violently.

"Santana, I don't even know what you _asked_," the diva tiredly replied. She rubbed small circles around her temples as she took a seat on the edge of her bed. The attempts to alleviate the headache were in vain. "I just want to sleep."

"Why. Did. You. Shove. Quinn." Santana gritted out slowly, her back on the door.

"Because she would have felt the baby!" Rachel snapped. "She would have found out! And she would have…"

Santana was watching the other girl suspiciously. "And she would have _what_?" she pressed.

"She would have hated me," Rachel whispered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Santana burst out laughing.

Rachel immediately took offense, hastily wiping at her eyes. "I'm _so glad_ you find all of this amusing." Had she actually have had somewhere else to go, she would have executed the perfect storm out. As it was, there really was nowhere else to go, what, with Santana blocking the door and all.

"Oh shut it Berry," Santana chuckled, wiping a stray tear. "There is so much wrong with what you said, I don't even know where to begin." She pretended to think for a moment before turning her eyes to the distraught girl, amused. "How about we start with how Quinn has claimed to hate you for _years_ and it's never bothered you before?"

"We weren't friends then," Rachel retorted, still nursing her injured self-esteem. "And it did bother me," she mumbled, quietly, as an afterthought.

Santana's eyes widened in interest as she queried, "What was that?"

"I said that it did bother me," the other girl vehemently exclaimed.

The faintest traces of a smirk started to appear on Santana's face. "Interesting," she murmured.

"What?" Rachel demanded.

"Calm your tits hobbit," Santana drawled. "We still have to talk about what else was wrong with, ya know…" she gestured wildly. "Everything else you just said."

Rachel regarded her silently, her lips a thin line.

"Okay first of all, I know you're not stupid," Santana deadpanned.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" Rachel asked skeptically.

The taller brunette chose to ignore that question. "So I'm going to chalk it up to the hormones and shock and all that shit."

"Chalk what up?" Rachel asked, exasperated. "Santana, I've got no idea what you're…"

"You can't be more than two weeks pregnant," Santana cut her off. "Even if you two were dry humping…" Rachel let out a scandalized yelp, and Santana smirked before continuing. "She wouldn't be able to feel _diddly-squat. _The absolute earliest would be in _nine weeks_."

Rachel looked at her, mouth ajar.

"You've got to be kidding me," she groaned, burying her face in her hands. "How would I know that?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Let's see…uh…" She paused for dramatic effect. "Common sense? Can _you_ feel the baby?"

"No…" Rachel trailed off. Then a sudden thought hit her. "But why would _you_ know that?"

The taller girl regarded Rachel warily, the smile slipping off her face. "What are you talking about Berry?"

"Just that maybe you weren't as disinterested in Quinn's pregnancy as you pretended to be." As Rachel finished the sentence, she noted in alarm that Santana had come perilously close and backed up rapidly until she found herself slamming into the headboard.

"Don't let me _ever_ catch you saying crap like that in Quinn's presence," Santana hissed angrily, bending down so that she could stare at Rachel, eye level.

Rachel was taken aback. "I didn't mean that as an insult." Santana's eyes flashed, and Rachel found herself readily nodding. "Okay."

As Santana straightened up, satisfied, there was a rapid set of knocking.

"What do you want?" Santana yelled.

Kurt opened the door, poking his head inside. "Why must you bellow through the door? We're humans, not barbarians."

At the _what-the-fuck-did-you-just-say _look Santana was giving him, Kurt sighed. "Dinner's ready."

Santana grinned. "Great, I'm starving." She cast a glance at Rachel. "You coming or what? I mean, you _are_ eating for two now."

"_Santana!"_ Rachel shrilled.

"Oh my god, this keeping-Berry's-pregnancy-a-secret-from-Quinn thing is starting to really get old," Santana grumbled.

"But Quinn's not even here," Kurt said, bemused. "So there's no real reason to be all hush-hush anymore."

Both girls froze.

"_What_?!"


End file.
